MURDER AMONG FRIENDS a totally gripping crime thriller full of twists

by JANICE FROST

  Steph smiled. She was glad when Frieda moved away. She hoped she wasn’t going to be one of those people who liked to chat to the customers when it was quiet, otherwise she’d have to forgo the free refills in exchange for some privacy elsewhere. Steph didn’t always feel in the mood for chatting, especially if Cal had been in her head the night before. She worried that people would see him in her eyes.

  “Here we go.” Frieda placed the refill on the table. “Breakfast is just coming.” She looked over to an open door by the counter leading to the kitchen. If it were a non-vegan place the aroma of frying bacon would be wafting through the café. “Oh, here it is.” Frieda waved at the dark-skinned man holding a steaming plate aloft. “Over here, Karun.”

  “This is Karun,” Frieda said, unnecessarily.

  “Nice to meet you, Karun.”

  They left her in peace. The food was excellent. Shame she had to gobble it down so quickly. She would come back, so long as they left her alone. The café had a calming atmosphere, maybe on account of it being empty. Still, she hoped business picked up for Frieda and Karun. They seemed like a nice couple.

  Steph finished eating and went to the till to pay. She stuck a pound coin in the tips jar on the counter. She’d had two refills. Frieda seemed a bit less smiley now. “You okay?” Steph asked, tentatively. She didn’t really want to get into in a lengthy conversation. Frieda gave her a strained smile.

  “I’ve just had a phone call about a friend of mine who’s had a bit of an accident. Well, more than that, really. She was attacked last night, in her own back garden.”

  “Oh. Is she all right?”

  “I’m not sure. She’s in hospital. Allie, our mutual friend is with her. She found her. Well, her dog alerted her. Apparently, he stood barking by poor Jane’s gate when Allie took him out for his last walk. She found Jane lying on the garden path, barely conscious. Allie said she’d been hit over the head.”

  “What was she doing out in the garden?”

  “She went outside after hearing a noise. She thought the wheelie bin had been blown over, but it was still upright. That’s all she remembers. Maybe it was a burglar.”

  That was a possibility, a potential burglar taken by surprise when the occupant came outside. Steph decided she’d look up the incident reports that had come in this morning, just to satisfy her own curiosity. She could tell Frieda about it next time she came in for coffee.

  “Poor Jane. It sounds like she got caught up in the sort of thing she could have been investigating.”

  Steph’s interest was piqued. “Your friend’s in the police?”

  “A special constable. Only been doing it a few weeks, but you’d never guess what happened on her very first shift.”

  Actually, she could. “She found a body.” The victim must be Jane Bell, the rookie SC she’d met on the night of Mark Ripley’s murder. Small world.

  Frieda stared at her. “Oh! You must have heard about the incident on the news.”

  Steph considered lying. She didn’t like too many people knowing what she did for a living. “No. I was there that night. I’m a police officer. A detective inspector.”

  “Wow. Hey, that’s pretty weird, isn’t it? I’m fascinated by connections and coincidences. There are forces at work in the world that operate beyond our level of understanding.”

  Oh no, not one of those. Steph should have taken the veganism as a hint. “Right. I need to get to work.” She prepared to leave the café, turned back, and for some reason beyond her own understanding, added, “Look, I’ll see what I can find out about the attack on your friend. I’ll let you know what I learn.”

  Forces beyond our understanding she muttered irritably, as she hurried along Burton Road. There was nothing weird about it. She’d been on duty the night Mark was murdered. Bell had also been on duty. She lived off Burton Road. Frieda owned a café on Burton Road. They were both acquainted with Bell. Lincoln wasn’t a particularly big place. The only coincidence was that she happened to be in the café when Frieda’s friend called about Bell’s misfortune. Things didn’t happen for a reason. They just happened. It was all random. Her meeting with Cal was random. Her meetings with Bell were random, and she’d been hoping that there would be no more of them. It was absurd to think that they had been brought together by anything other than blind chance.

  “Screw you, Cal.” Bad days always seemed to start after one of his nocturnal visits. A passer-by gave her a look. She thought she heard him mutter, ‘Weirdo’. Enraged, she turned around and glared at him, whereupon he scuttled across the road and turned the corner.

  By the time she reached the station, Steph felt slightly calmer. Elias was already at his desk exuding running-induced endorphins.

  “So, I’ve been doing a bit of research on the so-called ‘art of seduction,’ and the world of pick-up artists.” Straight down to business. Steph approved of that. She’d once worked in an office where a sizeable part of every morning was taken up with small talk. The ‘Good morning, how are you today?’ was taken as an opportunity to open up and offload. Steph regarded a polite, ‘fine thanks,’ as the only answer that question required. She cocked her head, ready to hear more.

  “I’ve been looking on various forums dedicated to the topic of male-female relationships. The thing a lot of them share is a degree of misogyny. There’s a lot of vitriolic stuff out there, as you’d expect. I could read some of them out, but they’re pretty offensive.”

  “I’m not easily offended, but don’t waste your time. Vile and obscene comments directed at women are all over social media. I can easily imagine. The people who post comments like that don’t have much imagination.”

  Elias looked up from his screen. “Maybe a woman killed Mark. In revenge for him spouting toxic crap like this about her. If he ran a pick-up group, chances are he had misogynistic views. He might even have been abusive to the women he dated. Or, if not the woman, maybe her boyfriend or her brother decided to teach Mark a lesson and went too far.”

  “Obviously we can’t ignore that possibility,” she said. “The post-mortem report indicated that Mark had hit his head on the stone step. His attacker could have pushed him, causing him to stumble backwards, then kicked him when he was down. It wouldn’t have taken a lot of strength to do that. I could easily shove someone over.” From the look Elias gave her, he didn’t doubt it. “Speaking of knocks on the head, do you remember that annoying special we met at the scene of Mark’s death? Jane Bell? She was attacked last night in her back garden. I was speaking with someone who knows her this morning. I’d like to take a look at her witness statement.”

  Elias frowned. “I don’t remember her being annoying.”

  On checking, Steph was surprised to discover that the assault on Bell had not been reported. It seemed odd that a serving special police officer would fail to report an attack on her own person. She must be aware that she could have been targeted by someone she’d crossed in the course of her duties. It shouldn’t be ignored.

  Elias made an odd remark. “Could her attack be linked to Mark Ripley’s death in some way?” The thought hadn’t even occurred to Steph. She dismissed it immediately.

  “Not at all. I just thought it might be related to some other incident she’s been involved with. Plus, if she’s upset someone to the extent that they’d go after her and bash her over the head, it might suggest she’s not competent to be doing the job.” Elias raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

  Lincoln County Hospital was located on Greetwell Road, opposite the prison. It wasn’t uncommon to see inmates from there in the waiting areas, and as Steph walked in the main entrance, she saw two prison escorts sitting either side of a young man in handcuffs. She nodded at one of the officers, whom she recognised.

  Jane Bell was on the assessment ward. According to the nurse, she was likely to be released later in the day. A large woman with stylish white hair and red-framed glasses sat in an orange plastic chair by her bedside, reading a detective novel. Steph recogni
sed the cover. The woman saw her look and smiled. “I’ve already guessed whodunnit.”

  “I did too. Pretty much from the first page. I’ve come to speak with Jane.” Steph showed her ID.

  “Oh! Is it about what happened to her last night? How did you find out? Jane was adamant she didn’t want to report it to the police. My husband and I even had to drag her here under protest.”

  “I had breakfast at Veganbites this morning.”

  “Frieda told you?”

  “Yes. I’ve met Ms Bell before. I was the detective on duty the night she discovered the body of Mark Ripley.”

  “Nice of you to come and see her.” There was a slight chill in the woman’s tone. What had Bell said about her?

  Concern for Bell hadn’t been her motivation in coming to the hospital. Still, the sight of her badly grazed cheek, and the shaved patch of scalp with its stitches, almost stirred her to feel sorry for her.

  “I’m Allie Swift, by the way. Jane’s next-door neighbour-but-one.”

  “You’re the one who found her?”

  “Yes, well, it was all down to Dudgeon, really. My bull terrier. He started barking as we walked past her gate and wouldn’t budge. He’s very fond of Jane.”

  “How long had she been lying there when you discovered her?”

  “Only a few minutes, we think. Jane went out into her garden around eleven after hearing a noise outside. She thought one of her wheelie bins had fallen over. She went out to pick it up and wham! I took Dudge out around eleven. It can only have been a few minutes between us leaving our house, Dudge standing barking by Jane’s gate and the two of us going into the back garden to discover Jane lying across the path. Lucky she was wearing her jacket, or she might have ended up with hypothermia. It was freezing last night.”

  Steph thought that unlikely, given that Jane had not been outside for long. “Did you notice if the door to her house was open?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t. I was in a bit of a panic over Jane. I called Pete. When he arrived, we helped Jane to our car and drove straight here. Pete went back to Jane’s afterwards. He said that the back door was unlocked.”

  “Did he go inside?”

  “Yes. I told him he was an idiot. Jane’s attacker might have been in there.”

  Steph thought that the attacker had probably made himself scarce, if he’d even entered the property in the first place. There must have been quite a commotion with the dog barking. “He should have got in touch with the police.”

  Allie rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. But on the way to the hospital Jane kept saying that she didn’t want us to do that. Poor Jane. She doesn’t deserve any more bad luck.”

  Allie’s words were an invitation. Steph wasn’t interested in hearing Bell’s life story, but Allie told her anyway. “Jane’s husband died in a tragic accident three years ago.” She gazed at her friend with true affection, causing Steph an irrational stab of jealousy.

  “So, had anyone been in the house?”

  “No. Pete said it looked undisturbed. Presumably the door was unlocked because Jane had left it like that when she went outside. Pete thought maybe the burglar had got the wind up after he struck Jane and ran off. Most burglars aren’t into violence, are they?”

  Steph ignored the question. “I’d like to talk to her about last night.”

  Allie looked hesitant. “Maybe we should ask one of the nurses.” Ignoring her again, Steph stepped closer to Jane’s bed.

  “Jane Bell? Are you awake?”

  Allie bristled. “Quite clearly she isn’t.” But Jane stirred, screwed up her eyes as if in pain. Allie stood up but Steph got in first.

  “Ms Bell? It’s DI Warwick here. We met at the scene of Mark Ripley’s murder, remember?”

  Bell squinted at her. She nodded. Allie hovered by her bedside, protectively.

  “Thanks, Allie. I’m sorry if I was a bit of a pain last night,” Bell said. Allie squeezed her hand.

  “Just so you know, I didn’t alert the police.” Allie glared at Steph.

  “I was in your friend’s café this morning when Mrs Swift called with the news of your attack. Surely, you must be aware that an incident like this should be reported.”

  “I was going to report it.”

  “Can you run through what happened last night?”

  Jane looked at Allie. “I’d been out for the evening. At book group. Allie and I walked home together. We parted around a quarter to eleven, I think. I took off my wet things, then went into the kitchen to make a cup of camomile tea to help me sleep. That’s when I heard a noise from the garden. I thought it was the bin being blown over by the wind, so I went out to pick it up before the rubbish ended up all over the place. It was dark, sleeting, and visibility was poor.”

  Steph listened, impatient. She wasn’t interested in the weather.

  Jane touched the side of her head. “I was bending down looking for the brick I use to weigh down the lid of the bin when I heard a noise behind me. I looked up and saw someone standing there holding the brick. Then, everything went black. Next thing I knew, Dudge was licking my face and Allie was calling my name.” She smiled at her friend. “And panicking.”

  “Did you get a look at your attacker’s face?”

  “No, it was dark. He had his hood up. I only caught a glimpse of him for a second and my eye was on the brick in his hand more than anything.”

  “How sure are you that it was a man?” Steph asked.

  Jane pulled herself up against the pillows and took a sip of water from the glass on the cabinet by her bedside. “Not sure at all, actually.” She looked slightly embarrassed. “It was sort of instinctive to say ‘he.’ That’s bad, isn’t it? Stereotyping like that.”

  “A lot of the time you’d probably be right. But it’s better to say if you’re not sure.”

  “I’m not sure. They were bulky, but I didn’t get much impression of their height.”

  “You’ve done a few shifts as a special now, haven’t you? Have you come across anyone while on duty who might bear a grudge against you?”

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t think so. There was the man at the chippy, I suppose. But he was just drunk and mouthing off. He wasn’t charged. He spent a night in custody sleeping it off.” Steph listened to a story about a man in a fish and chip shop assailing the staff and police with pickled onions and chips.

  “I’ve had worse things thrown at me,” she remarked when Jane had finished. Steph guessed that Jane hadn’t envisaged being involved in a semi-farcical scene such as that when she volunteered. A lot of people joined the specials for a bit of excitement. It soon became clear that, though there were plenty of adrenalin rushes, there were often, also, long periods of routine plodding, punctuated by bizarre and sometimes downright surrealistic incidents. A memory of chasing two chickens around a car park sprang to mind.

  “Anything else?”

  A nurse with a trolley approached the bed. “No,” Jane said to Steph as the nurse wrapped a blood pressure band around her left arm. She yawned. “Not that I can think of right now.” She seemed drowsy. Probably full of painkillers. Steph made to go. Jane Bell roused herself and asked, “Have you got any leads on the investigation into Mark Ripley’s murder yet?”

  Steph prickled. “I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you. As I think I told you that time in the supermarket. Please report this incident at the earliest opportunity.” She walked away. Idiotic woman. Does she really think I’ll take pity on her and throw her some morsels just because she’s in a hospital bed?

  Pity was a weakness, she reminded herself again. It had got her nowhere with Cal. But the reality was, there was little she could have shared with Jane Bell.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jane was sitting in the passenger seat of Allie’s car being driven home from the hospital when her phone beeped. It was a number she didn’t recognise. She read the text message and frowned.

  Hi, my name’s Kylie Bright. Ryan said you’d like to talk to me a
bout the man in the Chinese buffet. When’s a good time to speak?

  Of course! Ryan Brown’s new friend. Jane hoped her still thumping headache was the cause of her initial confusion. She recalled the conversation she’d had with Ryan at the hospital. When she’d spoken with him, she’d never dreamed she’d be the next victim of a bonk on the head. There seemed to be a lot of it about lately.

  Her instinct was to text straight back and arrange to meet Kylie Bright immediately. Unfortunately, the pain in her head had other plans. She’d been instructed to rest, take some paracetamol and avoid strenuous activity.

  “Another well-wisher?” Allie asked. Word had got around.

  “Yes,” Jane lied. She couldn’t wait to get home. Allie hadn’t been keen on her returning to her own house and had wanted her to stay the night with her and Peter.

  “Are you sure you won’t reconsider coming to us? Won’t it be upsetting for you to go back there after what happened?”

  “I have to go back sometime. It might as well be sooner rather than later.”

  “You know, Pete and I were just saying that maybe you could borrow Dudgeon tonight.”

  “Allergic, remember?”

  “I know, but Dudge is short-haired. And he adores you. He practically saved your life.”

  Jane resisted the urge to snap at her friend. She told herself it was her aching head making her ill-tempered, not Allie’s harping on about her wellbeing. She pictured the stocky little brindled Staffie barking frantically by her gate and felt awash with affection for him, and for her friends.

  “I know and I’m really grateful to him. I’m going to buy him a big, juicy bone from the artisan butchers in the Bail at the earliest opportunity. But I don’t want him moving in with me.” She’d aimed for a light-hearted tone, but realised she sounded a bit on edge.

  Allie insisted on seeing her inside. Despite her earlier fortitude, Jane shuddered as she stepped over the threshold. It was a bit unsettling to think that a stranger could have been here, going through all her personal belongings, even though there was no sign of a burglary. “It’s cold. I’d better put the heating on for a bit.”